Tzoli's Red Leather Journal

14 - The End of Spring, Camday

One year...

It has bin a hole year sinss I have bin put into silinss in my head. One year sinss Melchior turnd me away. One year sinss I have become an in batween persin. If I coud beg for him to take me bak, I woud. But it will do no good. I no that. I woud walk on daggars fer the rest of my life just to not be in this in batween plass. Evarywere I look there are spirals, fethurs... monks. And then ther is me.

Wat am I?

Oh well. It duz no mattar no mor wat I am, just that I am. I think peepul will always suffar and that it duz not mattar wat they are. Suffar as Dryth, suffar as wat I am now. Did Melchior reelee think I woud not suffar like this? I wish I coud just rapent. I wish I coud just...

Ther is no one I can talk to abot this. No one reelee listins. No one evar duz. They act like it, but they onlee heer wat they think I am saying. Like I am speekin in riddals.

One Year.

How many mor to go?

Posted by Tzoli at August 27, 2005 05:46 PM